


the future

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Corny, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Meme, Mention of Meldrew, Non-Chronological, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OTP meme thingie in drabbles for Daisy/Coulson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the future

**Who is a master of the Puppy-Dog-Eyes look?**

Daisy has perfected it through the years but when Coulson does it that’s when it’s really effective.

He has often joked that she could get him to do anything when she gets all big-eyed, but he seems completely unaware of the effect his Sad Face has on Daisy.

“That’s not going to work today, you know,” she warns him as she prepares to leave his office.

Coulson frowns. “What?”

“Your Disney eyes.”

“My _Disney eyes_?”

“Yeah, you go full on Bambi when I do something you disapprove of.”

His eye widen, the Bambi part disappears a bit (or goes back to resting under the surface) and suddenly it seems like Coulson has other things to worry about, not just Daisy’s safety.

“I don’t disapprove of what you’re doing,” he hurries to say. “I’m just worried.”

Daisy nods. “Yes, and that doesn’t make it any easier.”

It makes it worse, actually. Knowing that the Disney eyes are there because he’s afraid for her.

“I’m sorry,” Coulson says, sighing and sitting down on his chair. “I’m not very good at this.”

Daisy sits with him.

“Evidently.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he says.

He doesn’t have to clear that one up. She knows Coulson, even this new Coulson The Boyfriend, he’s still Coulson. He wouldn’t try to guilt-trip her into reconsidering a dangerous mission.

“I know that too,” she tells him, running one hand up and down his back.

“I’ve just done this whole thing with someone I’m…”

He gestures between them, unable to find the words. Daisy decides to help.

“In love with?”

Coulson groans, frustrated at his own inadequacy to put it into words.

“I know our job is supposed to be dangerous,” he says, like he’s trying to explain it to himself. “But ever since…”

“We hooked up?”

“Okay, yes, _thank you for that_ ,” he says, a bit too sharply. “Ever since then I just feel like I wasted so much time. Either of us could go and get killed out there, and we knew that and that’s fine. It’s thinking back on all the time - _years_ \- we could have spent together.”

Daisy admits she’s a bit touched by that. The idea that someone might lament time not spent with her - when so many of her relationships ended up with her thinking the other person regretted _wasting their time one her_. But not Coulson. She’s not completely sure how to navigate this new change in their ever changing relationship, but that thought alone comforts her.

“Hence the Disney eyes,” she says.

“Hence the Disney eyes,” Coulson repeats, smiling. “I’m sorry, I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” she says, taking his head in her hands. “If you knew how to do it on purpose you’d be _lethal_.”

 

**Who is the big spoon/little spoon?**

They both like being the little spoon, they both love the feeling of safety, of receiving love. Coulson is less used to it (all his relationships he’s played a part, a fantasy role) and thus he’s more greedy with it, sometimes wrestling Daisy when they’re both exhausted, orgasm-happy and half-asleep.

Other times they don’t have to negotiate, they know which one of them needs it the most. And when Daisy doesn’t ask for it, that’s when he knows things are really bad, so he just wraps her in his arms without question, until she feels so much smaller than she really is, so unlike the famous Quake. She’s commented how his new prosthetic arm has such soft skin so he runs his fingers across her cheek and neck, pressing his lips to the back of her head, feeling the damp hair from a hurried shower to try and wash the horrors of the day away. Coulson wishes he could be there on every mission, but at least he can be _here_ every night, and he thinks he knows his lover well enough by now that Daisy would agree it’s more important.

 

**Does the bigger one carry the smaller one in their arms?**

They have both strong, steady arms, but Daisy’s are stronger, so it doesn’t surprise him when he gets hurt in the middle of a mission (both ankles, after having to jump from a second floor, and it hurts like hell) and Daisy decides she has to carry him in his arms. It’s a very Hollywood pose and a great photo op if one there were press around.

“That was really cool, but not exactly romantic.”

He makes jokes like that afterwards, half wistful, about her strong arms (he even makes a marriage joke about the threshold, which makes both of them stop awkwardly and then laugh together) until Daisy decides to grant his wishes. Rather than a tactical move she slips her arms under him when he’s sitting on the couch, lifting him easily. Coulson wraps his arms around her neck, shaking his head at the absurdity a bit. But truth is he really enjoys the way Daisy can swoop him off his feet both metaphorically and literally, it seems. He feels smaller than usual tucked under Daisy’s chin like that, as she carries him to the bedroom. She’s very careful walking through the doorframe, not wanting him to bump his head or anything.

When she lies him down, softly, on the bed Coulson sighs, pleased.

“That’s more like it,” he tells her.

Daisy covers him with her body (her strong body - it gives Coulson a thrill to know she can pick him up at will) and catches his lips with hers.

“You’re really weird,” she comments.

She doesn’t seem to object, so maybe Coulson will manage to convince her to do it again.

 

**Who wakes up early to make breakfast in bed?**

Coulson is not a morning person. This is scandalous of course and as soon as Daisy finds out - when the relationship is still new but already comfortable enough that he doesn’t mind whining to her about how he really doesn’t want to wake up so early - she starts threatening to tell everybody. The truth is she enjoys waking up first, watching Coulson relaxed and willingly vulnerable for once.

Coulson is not a morning person and usually by the time Daisy finishes morning sparring with May or one of her subordinates and comes back to the room (because apparently now they are sort of sharing Coulson’s room? _wow_ ) to change into proper clothes Coulson is still fighting a fight to the death with the bedsheets and trying to encourage himself to get up.

It’s been one month exactly since they started sleeping together (not that Daisy thinks this is some kind of anniversary or anything) and Daisy decides to do something nice for him, to soothe his horrible morning experiences.

It’s a quiet day - finally - so she doesn’t feel guilty about skipping work to do this.

Coulson looks confused at first, sitting up slowly until Daisy is able to put the tray over his knees. Then he looks kind of… ashamed.

“I should have thought of doing this myself,” he comments. He’s being a bit traditional, Daisy figures.

“Just because you’re the expert chef doesn’t mean you have the monopoly on romantic gestures,” she tells him.

“No but…” he looks down at the food. “Thank you.”

“I don’t even know if you like huevos rancheros. I probably didn’t think this through, sorry. They’re also probably not very good.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Coulson says.

“What?”

“Undersell yourself because you’re scared you won’t be enough,” he tells her.

She raises an eyebrow. A little too psycho babble for him. Not that he is wrong, of course. They just have never talked about her issues head on. At least not yet.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time,” Coulson explains. “Of course I was going to love it.”

Daisy nods, suddenly feeling all raw, hugging her knees.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Coulson says, dropping his head as he eats. “I ruined it.”

They’re still awkward around each other, in a completely different way than before they started having sex.

“No, you haven’t ruined it,” she tells him. She wishes she could turn all the bad stuff in her life off, for Coulson. But she can’t. “Oh, and the breakfast is not the only thing.”

“There’s more?” he asks, expression brightened once he’s seen she’s okay.

“I’ve cleared your schedule, Director,” Daisy explains. “You have the day off. I mean, unless someone tries to take over the world or destroy it.”

“You think that’s wise?”

“It’s fine, Phil, SHIELD can survive one day without you, it’s not going to implode.”

Though she realizes their track record is not stellar. No wonder Coulson overworks himself like this.

“Okay, but why have you done this?”

 _Because I love you_ is the first, ridiculous answer that pops into her head, but something keeps her from saying that (her common sense, possibly, but something else altogether; one of those things she wishes she could shut off when she’s with Coulson).

“So you could sleep the morning away,” she tells him instead. “I know how much you hate mornings - don’t worry, I’ll keep the secret. This way you can sleep until noon.”

“But I’ve already had breakfast,” he points out, genuinely confused.

“Going back to bed after having breakfast is one of life’s greatest pleasure.”

Coulson thinks about it, resting his hand on Daisy’s knee.

“I have much to learn from you,” he tells her.

 

**Who checks on the baby in the middle of the night?**

“She’s going to be fine, you don’t have to stand on the doorway like this, she’s not a baby,” Coulson reminds her.

Daisy and the twelve-year-old girl had basically spent the last 24 hours together and though Daisy seemed cool when it was finally time to put her to sleep in one of the Cocoon’s guest quarters he’s not surprised to catch her sneaking in to check on the young Inhuman.

“Come on,” Coulson nudges her, taking her by the elbow and pulling her away. “Let her rest.”

They sit down on the impersonal, cold kitchen. An orphan like Daisy, Coulson can hardly believe the girl was able to hide her condition from everybody for so long.

“You’d be surprised the secrets young girls can keep about themselves,” Daisy says, looking tired, too honest.

The girl’s power might sound like something useful, fun, but it’s pretty terrifying when Coulson stops to think about it.

“You’ve gone full mother hen mode, though,” he comments, holding her hand across the table. He’s still not sure how to relate to Daisy’s Inhuman issues, now that they’re a couple. It used to be easier when they were just hopeless and secretly in love with each other, he thinks (so secretly they themselves didn’t know for ages).

“Yeah,” Daisy smiles. “God help us if I ever have children of my own.”

They both freeze for a moment. Coulson has never heard her talk about the idea, even though, as an Inhuman, it has to be something she has considered before. He knows Daisy always wanted a family. 

“No, but I was thinking maybe this is something I could do,” she says.

“What?” Coulson asks.

“I know saving the world doesn’t leave a lot of free time,” she says, looking guilty. She probably thinks whatever free time she has she should spend it on Coulson and their relationship. “But I think I’d like to be of help to other Inhuman kids. Or Inhuman families who need their kids to be around someone like them, to show them that it’s okay.”

Plus a lot of children have lost their Inhuman parents in recent years as consequence of both Hive’s actions and the government’s.

“Become a foster parent to these kids?”

“Temporary foster parent,” Daisy tells him. 

He’s surprised she hasn’t had the idea sooner. Or maybe she has but told him nothing because she wasn’t sure how he’d react. He is aware it’s a big change.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Coulson says, quietly.

Her face lights up with awe.

“Really?”

Coulson nods, drawing a line across her palm with his fingertips. “Really.”

He knows she’s going to be an overprotective, sleepless, mother-hen of a foster parent. And absolutely the perfect person for it.

 

**Did they cry at their own wedding?**

She finds him hiding in the bathroom of their hotel room, worried that he’s taking so much time. They were just supposed to change into something more comfortable.

When she opens the door Coulson is still wearing his handsome tux, hands on the sink and looking at the mirror.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, shyly, suddenly going back to the days where he was just her boss and everything was fraught with a strange tension neither of them recognized until many years later.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he hurries, trying to hide his face from her.

“Oh My God are you crying?” she realizes, horrified. “I’m so sorry, I know you wanted a perfect wedding, and I know I’m not anyone’s ideal and you deserve so much, everything and-”

She rambles on but Coulson takes her face in his hands and kisses her, one long single breathtaking kiss. Daisy can feel the dampness of his cheeks against hers.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes out and either it’s the first time someone says this to Daisy or it feels like it because it’s the first time she believes them. She’s perfect.

She touches Coulson’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she says, looking at the tear on her fingertip. “I never wanted to make you cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Coulson repeats, caressing her face. “I’m old and foolish and sentimental, it’s not your fault.”

Daisy bursts out laughing when she realizes she’d began crying too. When she realizes Coulson hid in the bathroom to cry not because he was sad, but because he was _too happy_.

“Look at us, we’re so pathetic,” she says, grinning through the tears.

“Yes,” Coulson agrees, slipping one arm around her back and pressing her against the sink. “Sad, really.”

He kisses her, salty happy kisses.

“We’re the worst,” Daisy says, kissing back.

“Mm-uh.”

 

**Who would cuddle the other for no reason?**

It takes them a bit.

To get comfortable with it.

Believe they’ve earned this.

Daisy learned not to ask for physical affection, and giving it because she feels like it still feels selfish to her. Months into the relationship she starts getting comfortable around the idea: Coulson touches her casually, lovingly, but there’s always the instinctive pulling back, because he’s afraid of crowding her. Daisy likes that. Far too often she has had to give affection when she didn’t feel like it, far too often she felt pressured to do so, or even robbed of the choice. She doesn’t mind needy, clingy, hungry for touch (Coulson is all of those things in his own quiet way); she minds not feeling like she’s allowed to ask for the same in return.

He touches her casually, lightly, a hand on the small of her back in the morning, or squeezing her shoulder after a rough mission. It feels natural, being touched by him.

After a while she starts trying it out. Holding hands after a meeting. She would touch the back of his neck lightly when they leave a room. Kiss his cheek in the morning for no reason, while he brushes his teeth. It feels like an spectacular and precious freedom. Coulson seems both touched and amused with the new developments.

She knows she often goes overboard with it, eventually. Curling up besides him when they sit, working, on the couch, quietly nudging him until Coulson cuddles her in his arms while she explains the latest security snafu by their friends at CIA (or was it the FBI this time?).

Then after a year and a half they get a house in the city and though they don’t get to use it much there the freedom Daisy feels threatens to overwhelm her. At least the first few times. In the Playground and the Cocoon everything is semi-public, even their quarters. Here they are alone, and with relatively few interruptions.

“Are you okay?” Coulson asks one day, while he’s making lunch and Daisy has entered the kitchen and hugged him from behind, staying like that, pressed to his back.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’ve been doing this more and more lately,” he says, in a careful voice. “Touching me. It just… doesn’t feel like you.”

Daisy smiles, because for once Coulson doesn’t seem to know her better than she knows himself.

She kisses him between the shoulders.

“I think this is me, the real me,” she says, hugging him tighter to make the point. “I just didn’t know it before.”

“I see.”

“You’d better get used to it.”

Coulson covers her hand with hers, resting over his chest. She can’t exactly see him smile but she can almost hear it and taste it.

“I don’t think getting used to it is going to be a problem.”

 

**Who sings a lullaby to help the baby sleep?**

They haven’t gotten to the point where they think about having children of their own. He guesses Daisy is still relatively young and can give herself some time. She seems to have her hands full fostering every orphaned Inhuman kid or disgruntled teenager when she has some free time. And now the occasional babysitting of May’s and Andrew’s baby.

When Coulson comes into the room she is holding that perfect little thing in her hands. She must wonder, like her parents, if she will grow up to make the choice to be an Inhuman. Coulson knows what Andrew and May would want, but they can’t make that choice for her. If he and Daisy were to have kids this is something they would have to face. Maybe he’s not cut out to be a father because despite all the pain he knows it would bring them he can’t really believe he’d want to stop his kids from becoming like Daisy. Maybe it’s better they haven’t had the Talk yet, because he’d probably be very unhelpful.

He does enjoy seeing Daisy like this, with a little Inhuman bundle in her arms, not hers but someone close to her (May and Andrew know Daisy will always be there for their daughter, no matter what, as a friend and as a leader of her people). And she’s singing to the baby - which, Coulson didn’t think Daisy would be the kind to sing to babies, or maybe he didn’t stop to imagine. But he didn’t think she’d be a lot of things, Daisy Johnson always full of surprises. He approaches slowly, to avoid disturbing both baby and babysitter.

She starts humming something familiar, something Coulson mostly knows from a movie, something Daisy told him her mother used to sing to her. Something Cal told her once. More than a memory. 

“Sorry, I guess this is kind of creepy,” she says when she realizes. “I didn’t know I was doing it.”

Daisy who always feels like she has to apologize for still loving her murderous, unfortunate parents. Coulson sits by her side, taking the baby in his arms and leaning against Daisy for warmth.

“It’s fine,” he reassures her. “You have a nice singing voice. I didn’t know that.”

Daisy who had to watch how Cal was definitely and finally taken away from her earlier this year, and in front of her and she’ll chalk it up to her general cursed existence, and not the fact that they all chose a dangerous path.

He wonders if she thinks she’ll hurt her own children, if she had them. Like her and Jiaying hurt her. If that’s part of her reluctance to even touch upon the issue.

Coulson starts humming something as well.

Daisy gives him a question look.

“Something my dad used to sing to me,” he tells her, hoping Daisy understands it’s okay, to feel part of a legacy. “I think. I’m not sure what I remember about him and what I’ve made up in my mind.”

Daisy rests her cheek on his shoulder. Coulson can almost physically feel the wave of empathy from her. He’s used to it - except you never get used to someone this kind.

“My singing is so much better,” she comments.

Coulson shakes his head. Sometimes she just has to ruin it.

 

**Who makes who sleep on the couch after an argument?**

After a bad one Daisy lingers in the living room. She knows Coulson would never kick her out of their bed, would never ask for space. He would never bring their professional problems home but - she still gets the feeling he’d probably be happier left alone for a moment, to lick his wounds on his own. She feels an ache in her chest thinking that she can’t really apologize or make it better right now.

So instead of joining him in the bedroom she stays late working on the couch. Then she gets a blanket and decides to stay the night. The couch is uncomfortable and lonely and it takes her a long time to be able to drift into a light sleep. So light she is aware of only having been asleep a few minutes when something wakes her up - or someone, a presence near her, a voice, someone touching her.

“Daisy?”

When she opens her eyes Coulson is there, crouched besides her, his hand wrapped around her shoulder and smiling at her. Smiling with a soft smile Daisy doesn’t understand.

“The press would bury me if they found out I made Quake sleep on the couch after a fight,” he tells her.

He doesn’t look like he has slept at all.

Daisy caresses the side of his face.

“Just admit you can’t sleep without me.”

“Actually it’s you who can never sleep without me,” he points out.

He’s right, Daisy confesses. Often when away on a mission she’d make the most pathetic two am phone calls just to hear his voice.

“You didn’t have to stay out here, you know,” he tells her, threading his fingers through her hair. Daisy leans into the caress, almost like she’s missed him, which is ridiculous. But she was a bit heartbroken thinking he wouldn’t touch her tonight. “You never have to feel like you have to remove yourself for me to… be okay.”

“But you lost today. And it was my fault,” she says.

“I was wrong and you were right,” Coulson replies. “That’s how it works. And yeah it sucks that sometimes you have to go home with the Director of SHIELD after you’ve openly challenged his orders and _won_. But you know what sucks more?”

“Sleeping alone?” she offers.

Coulson drops his head and touching his lips, lightly, against Daisy’s.

“Sleeping _without you_ ,” he says, getting up and offering his hand to her. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

She decides he’s right. Sleeping without him would suck even more than any argument.


End file.
